


I Don't Need Much (To Keep Me Warm)

by verucasalt123



Series: 2013 wishlist_fic fills [12]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Holidays, M/M, Oral Sex, References to Underage, Rimming, Sharing a Bed, Sibling Incest, Stanford Era, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-06 16:44:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1109159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verucasalt123/pseuds/verucasalt123
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>prompt: <i>Sam/Dean, makeshift Christmas dinner </i></p>
<p>Sam thought it might all be a little too much, or maybe even not enough, so realizing that it was exactly right was a bit of a surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Need Much (To Keep Me Warm)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saltandbyrne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandbyrne/gifts).



> I had a totally different story to write for this prompt, and then Cloud On My Tongue popped up on my playlist at 3am and ran away with the fic. I’ve taken some liberties with the prompt (read: more porn than dinner).

Sam’s scrubbing the inside of the refrigerator again. His brother had only given him twelve hours of notice that he’d be there to spend Christmas with him in the dorm, after not having seen each other since August, so it’s not all that surprising that Sam is engaging in his usual coping mechanism for stress – cleaning. He’s been to all the stores that are open, trying to collect items that might be considered traditional Christmas dinner food, but it’s not that easy when shopping is limited to 24-hour drugstores and gas marts for items that can be prepared using only a microwave or a contraband electric hot plate he isn’t allowed to have in the room anyway. His RA is staying there for the holiday break too, and he bought Sam beer (and weed, but Sam’s keeping that for himself) so there’s nothing left to do now but wait. Sam’s no good at waiting, but he’s excellent at cleaning. His roommate thinks he’s a freak, but that’s all right, at least he thinks it’s because he cleans too much and not because he knows how to make hex bags or field strip a rifle. 

It’s not like Dean’s going to be inspecting the shelves in the fridge, or checking out how much dust is on the windowsills (there is none); hell, he probably won’t even notice that the sheets and pillowcases smell like brand name fabric softener. He’s not coming here because he wants to see Sam’s room, he’s not even coming for Christmas dinner, really, he’s just coming to see Sam. But this is what Sam does when he’s nervous – he cleans and he makes lists and he tries to plan for any possible eventuality, even though this is just _Dean_. Dean has slept in filthy places and eaten food past its expiration date and seen Sam through every nasty gastrointestinal bug he’d had in his life, so why Sam feels like he has to impress him…well, none of that really mattered because Dean had never seen Sam _on his own_ , taking care of himself, and Sam wants him to know that he’s doing a decent job of it. Leaving Dean is the most terrifying thing Sam’s ever done, so seeing him again can’t be worse than that, right? Especially since he’s got beer and pre-cooked turkey breast sliced in the mini-fridge and vegetables he can steam in the microwave and instant mashed potatoes he can cook on the hot plate and two dishes that match. 

And then there’s the part where Sam’s a little overwhelmed, like maybe being alone with Dean after all this time apart is going to be too much, and he should have suggested meeting up at a restaurant or something, but that would have sounded ridiculous and it’s not like any place is open on Christmas anyway. 

But he has lube and condoms and he’s given himself a completely rational pep talk about how it’s okay to be disappointed if Dean doesn’t want to fool around, and that Dean may very well not be interested in that anymore, which is also perfectly all right. Even though it really isn’t and the chance of Dean leaving without the two of them having sex is practically zero. They hadn’t exactly talked about it, but then they’d never really talked about it before, either, when it happened all the damn time, so Sam’s pretty much counting on the whole sex thing working out fine, even if the rest of the visit is a bust. Which it won’t be, he tells himself for the hundredth time. 

Dean lets himself be pulled into an embrace worthy of whatever was the last sappy girl movie he’d seen, there’s no shame in his relief at having his hands on Sam again after all this time. And Sam – fuck, Sam is _nervous_ , like Dean’s a date, or someone he’s supposed to make a good impression on, babbling about what kind of food he was able to find and how he’s planning to prepare it and the tiny room reeks of cleaning products; Dean thinks he might be able to see his reflection in the tile floor if he tries. But he doesn’t, he just smiles and nods in the right places, assures Sam it sounds like a really great Christmas dinner as if dinner was what he’d come here for. It’s Christmas, sure, but he’s got no present for his brother and holds no illusion that Sam would have gotten one for him; it’s not something they did, not since Sammy was little and gave Dean the gift he’d been planning to give to their father, having decided at the ripe old age of eight or so that John was a liar unworthy of even token appreciation. 

Once Sam settles down, has a seat, somehow forces himself to stop talking, Dean gets a chance to really look at him. Not so different – a little taller, maybe, skin darker, hair longer, but still just Sam. Sam enough to still completely when he feels Dean’s eyes on him, up and down, then straight on. He does that thing, he’s been doing it since he should have been too young to know that it was hot, where he looks up at Dean through long lashes and half-closed eyes, (how does he manage to look _up_ and still exactly in the right place even though he’s taller now?), biting down on half of his bottom lip like he’s not one hundred percent exactly sure what’s about to happen. Dean raises his eyebrows and shoots him a _what the fuck do you think you’re doing?_ look and that’s it. The kisses are rough and desperate, stopping only long enough to make room for swift clothing removal before they’re falling onto the narrow bed that Sam’s made up so nicely. Sam uses his height advantage to pin Dean underneath him, biting and licking his way down his throat, across his chest, over sensitive nipples; Dean’s almost out of breath before Sam licks around the head of his cock and then just swallows as much as he can all at once. Sam can’t help the little moan that escapes his throat but doesn’t regret it because Dean starts cursing; he’s glad the RA is on the other side of the hall but he’s not sure how far the sound travels with no one else around. There’s no time for further thought on the matter when Dean gets his sense back for a minute and flips them over, kisses Sam some more, whispers into his ear and slides down the bed to start licking him out, getting him all slick with spit and sliding a finger in next to his tongue. Sam manages to reach into the drawer next to his bed for lube before his brain stops working and Dean takes full advantage, opening him up and not being gentle about it, either, and it’s a good thing Sam quit thinking about how far the sound is traveling or he would be wasting time trying to keep from crying out at how good Dean’s tongue and fingers feel inside of him. By the time Sam’s desperately fucking himself back against three of Dean’s practiced and calloused fingers, Dean’s spotted the condoms in the half-open drawer and reaches for one, looking up at his brother and getting a frenzied affirmative nod in response, a couple of soft _yeah, yeah, now, please_ s that spur him on. He wonders sometimes, what it would be like without it, but it’s not a chance he’d ever take – if he does the nameless girls he picks up in bars the courtesy of using a condom without complaint, he’d certainly never do less for Sam. 

Dean’s not thinking about random chicks when he slides into Sam’s hole, though, he’s only thinking it’s just as hot and tight and fucking perfect as it’s been since that very first time in New Mexico, middle of summer and skinny dipping in a lake turning into something he’d been trying to fight off for almost a year. He’d run out of steam that ungodly hot afternoon, no more energy left in him to move back when Sam stepped forward, he’d just let it happen and they hadn’t ever stopped until Sam took his first steps in another direction. None of it matters now, Sam’s fingers digging into his shoulders as Dean thrusts into him with no patience or tenderness, both of them groaning and cursing and helplessly breathing out each other’s names like a skipped record. 

It’s over faster than either of them wants it to be, but that’s no surprise. They’ve got all night; Sam doesn’t know it yet but they’ve got until about three o’clock the next afternoon before Dean will have to get back into his car and return to the rest of his life. Sam goes to clean up and lands right back on the bed next to his brother. They talk in hushed tones about this and that, neither of them will probably even remember the conversation the next day. There’s more fooling around and there’s laughing and maybe a couple of awkward silences. Around midnight, they end up eating dinner; Dean’s not hungry but Sam doesn’t have any fake credit cards in Palo Alto and he’s not about to let the food Sam bought go to waste. 

Sam’s shocked at how he feels in the morning. He’s happy, of course, thrilled that Dean’s with him, shoved impossibly close in the tiny twin sized bed, satisfied and sore and sweaty. But more than that, he’s _okay_. He knows Dean’s gonna be gone in the next few hours, and there’s no telling when he’ll be back, but somehow that’s just fine. As nervous as he’d been yesterday that the visit would be too much, he’d also been afraid that it wouldn’t be enough, that he’d be bitter and angry after Dean left, maybe not take his calls for a while because it would hurt too fucking much. None of that is there this morning. Yeah, Dean’s gonna go and Sam’s gonna miss him, but it was all right. In all the ways that mattered, to Sam anyway, they’d never really been apart in the first place. Dean is always with him, right down to the marrow of his bones, Dean is _there_ , and Sam doesn’t doubt the same is true for his brother, whether he knows it or not. He’s overjoyed that they had this time together, and he knows he’ll treasure any other time they can make to be like this again. What’s making him feel so stupidly peaceful right now is that having this really is okay; he never left Dean and Dean’s not leaving him, not really. 

_you can go now_  
 _you’re already in there_  
 _I’ll be wearing your tattoo_  
 _I’m already in_


End file.
